


unconscious

by puertoricansuperman



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Concussions, Gen, Hurt Pavel Chekov, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27691102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puertoricansuperman/pseuds/puertoricansuperman
Summary: Chekov gets a concussion on an away mission. Luckily, Jim is there to look after him.
Relationships: Pavel Chekov & James T. Kirk
Comments: 14
Kudos: 59





	unconscious

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly an excuse to experiment with coding text on ao3. if I've done my job right, you, the reader, should be able to mouse over the Russian parts of the fic to see an English translation. (if you're on mobile, try tapping the Russian text.) please note that this will **not** work if you have the creator's style turned off/hidden while you read; you'll need to make the creator's style visible to read this fic. 
> 
> also: I've done my best with with the translation for this fic, but despite my great-grandmother's best efforts, I don't actually know very much Russian. so there may be mistakes. any corrections are welcome.
> 
> edit (Dec. 11, 2020): much of the Russian dialogue in this story has been edited for accuracy. Thank you to the lovely guest commenter who provided these translations!

“...hear me? Chekov? Chekov!”

The voice sounded very far away. It was muffled and indistinct, as though it came from the other side of the wall. It sounded familiar. Pavel wanted to respond. He felt that he should. He thought he had some kind of obligation to that distraught, worried voice, but he couldn’t quite remember. His head felt like it was filled with cotton. 

“Come on, kid. Talk to me. Open your eyes. Anything.” The voice grew louder. It pierced the cotton layer and stabbed deep into Pavel’s brain. He groaned. That made the voice pause, but only for a few seconds. “Chekov? Come on, kid. Give me something to work with.” It paused again, and silence stretched dark and deep through the gap. “Dammit, Pavel. Don’t do this to me.”

“” 

Pavel tried to open his eyes. Blistering light seared into him and he cried out. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, and the arms around him pulled him close, into softness and warmth. 

“It’s okay,” Captain Kirk said. Pavel remembered. He had been next to Kirk on the transporter pad. And during the snowstorm. The details were vague, distant, but he knew that much. “It’s okay, Pavel. I got you.” The arms cradled him closer. “You think you can keep talking?” 

“” Pavel said. He felt a little more alert, though he was hesitant to try and open his eyes again. “” He tried to remember what had happened, before this, where he had been and how he had gotten here. “” 

There was a pause. Pavel heard the wind, very far away, but he couldn’t feel it. He felt warm. 

“Okay,” Kirk said. “That’s—that’s good. I think. Hopefully those are real sentences and you’re not just… babbling.” 

“” Pavel said. 

“You hit your head pretty hard back there,” Kirk went on. “It looked bad. It—it  _ looks  _ bad.” He paused. “But you’re gonna be okay.” Pavel felt a hand work its way into his hair, combing through his loose curls with a gentle touch. “You’re tough. We’ll get you back to the ship, and Bones will fix you right up.”

“” Pavel said. He did not expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. Kirk went on talking. He didn’t seem to expect a response either.

“I should probably learn Russian, right?” he said. “When all this is over. At least enough to… understand you. In case something like this ever happens again.”

“” Pavel said. Then, “”

Another pause. “You know who I am, right?” Kirk said. “Shit. I have to—I have to ask you the questions. The concussion questions. Bones is gonna kill me.” He added this last part in a quieter voice. 

“” Pavel said, trying to answer his question. That seemed like the right thing to do. “” 

“Okay,” Kirk said. “That sounded like my name, so I’m going to assume that you  _ can  _ understand me, and you know who I am.”

“” Pavel said, glad he was starting to catch on. 

“What about… your name,” Kirk said. “Can you tell me that?” 

“” Pavel said. Then he had to think for a moment to remember it. “”

“Okay,” Kirk said. “Good. That’s good.” He tucked Pavel in closer to his chest. Pavel turned his face against the captain’s soft shirt. Then he winced as pain lanced through his forehead. He whimpered. Kirk’s hand soothed through his hair again. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Pavel lost track of time after that. He heard the wind howling, and Kirk’s voice, humming an abstract tune. He felt Kirk’s arms around him, and the soft hand in his hair. Cotton filled his head again. Everything turned soft and hazy and faraway. 

“” he murmured. That was the last thing he knew. 


End file.
